


5 things that change for Peter after the end of the world

by iron_spider



Series: rattle universe [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/pseuds/iron_spider
Summary: ...and one thing that always remains the same.(SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR)Peter knows he’s different now.The first three months were like a bubble. He didn’t think about the newness of his old life, he didn’t think about the state of the world now that it had been saved—he just worried. Worried about Tony and Steve recovering. Worried about May worrying about him. Worried about everything in general—he didn’t allow himself specifics because specifics didn’t make sense, not yet. He just focused on his routine, kept it normal, the same schedule every day so he didn’t throw himself off.It felt like the bubble popped when the party ended, and everything became clearer. The differences in who he is now were highlighted, like there was a spotlight on his every move, like everybody could see the invisible scars the world-ending experience left on him.The first thing he notices is the sleeping. Or lack thereof.(a follow up to my story "the rattle of their hearts" from Peter's POV. You can read this one without having read the original, but it would make more sense if you have read it!)





	5 things that change for Peter after the end of the world

1.

Peter knows he’s different now.

The first three months were like a bubble. He didn’t think about the newness of his old life, he didn’t think about the state of the world now that it had been saved—he just worried. Worried about Tony and Steve recovering. Worried about May worrying about him. Worried about everything in general—he didn’t allow himself specifics because specifics didn’t make sense, not yet. He just focused on his routine, kept it normal, the same schedule every day so he didn’t throw himself off. 

It felt like the bubble popped when the party ended, and everything became clearer. The differences in who he is now were highlighted, like there was a spotlight on his every move, like everybody could see the invisible scars the world-ending experience left on him. 

The first thing he notices is the sleeping. Or lack thereof. 

He hadn’t been the heaviest of sleepers before the soul stone situation, but now on school nights he gets about two hours, and on weekends its usually three or four, if he’s lucky. He’s got two more weeks of school before summer and he’s anxious to try and catch up on all the hours he’s been missing. But he has a feeling it’s a deeper problem than that. 

He’s in his room in the compound and it’s already late, pushing one in the morning, but he’s still keeping up two conversations, one with Ned and one with Bucky. He said goodnight to May a while ago, and he figures, hopes she’s asleep by now. He never feels completely safe unless he’s with Tony and May both, and he sorta wishes they’d just move in here. It might make things easier.

 **Bucky:** _it’s late what the hell are you doing_

Peter looks over at the glowing lamp on the bedside table. Tony had gone above and beyond to make this room perfect for him, from the posters on the walls to the king sized bed to the tricked out computer and Peter sighs, settling back against the pillow. Half the time he worries that he’s coming off as ungrateful, because everything Tony has given him, done for him—it deserves constant thankfulness. He doesn’t live up to what anybody deserves.

He texts Bucky back. _Ugh going to bed now—made myself cookies and lost track of time eating them all :)_

At least it’s half true. There are three cookies left on his plate and four in a bag left in the kitchen for Tony to find. 

**Bucky:** _save me some you damn hoarder and go to bed before I call Tony and tell him he’s being negligent_

Peter shakes his head and types up a response. _Okay narc! Goodnight!_

 **Bucky:** _night kid I’ll see you tomorrow_

Peter smiles at his phone and then it buzzes in his hand with another message from Ned. 

**Ned:** _I lost another game I can’t believe this_  
**Ned:** _I’m going to bed I feel completely harassed_  
**Ned:** _you feeling okay?_

 _Yeah_ Peter types. _Good luck tomorrow tell me if you move up in the rankings and I’ll catch you at like four on Sunday!!_

 **Ned:** _kay kay :) :) night night_

 _Goodnight!_ Peter types, and he puts his phone aside. He always feels kinda weird and lost when he ends his conversations for the night, and he reaches over, turning off the light. He plugs in his phone and settles back, pulling the blankets up to his neck. 

He doesn’t know why he can’t sleep. It’s different than before, when he was busy patrolling til late and passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, snoring until his alarm went off a couple hours later. Now he puts it off, and when the lights are finally out it’s like he’s stuck. The darkness reminds him of every moment they were in the stone, in that dimension with all those crates and that stormy ceiling and all that uncertainty. All he hears is silence, and he knows it makes him seem a little bit like a clingy weirdo, but he really does miss having Tony’s voice in his head. 

He tosses and turns, gets the blankets all caught up in his legs. He’s memorized the tiles in the ceiling, the edges of his bed, the door to the bathroom, which he always leaves slightly open. 

Minutes pass, tick by, and he changes his position a thousand times. He counts sheep, he does math problems in his head, he falls into fear and worry and shoots up in bed when the intrusive thoughts break through—Tony dying, all of them stuck in the stone forever. Never finding May in there, just searching forever, both he and Bucky completely sure they’re trapped, that their friends are dead, that they’re gonna starve to death soon, there in the darkness.

He turns his bedside lamp back on. Tony got him one of those bracelets to keep up with his heart rate and it’s way, way too fast right now. He rubs his eyes—he only got three hours of sleep last night, and they were wracked with nightmares and an oncoming cold. He doesn’t know if he’s gonna get anything tonight, and the thought freaks him out.

He sighs, trying to calm down. He knows he’s different now, in a bunch of different ways, but this is one of the worst ones. He sighs again, tossing the blankets off and getting to his feet. He opens his bedroom door as quietly as he can, closes it back the same way, and draws his fingers along the wall as he heads for the stairs, padding down into the living room. He doesn’t know what he’s going for, what he’s planning to do, and he hopes he can find some kind of way to distract himself, or tire himself out.

He feels defective. Everybody needs sleep. He never even gets to that really excited and productive phase that comes with too many hours awake, he just feels like he’s doing something fundamentally incorrect. He shuffles over to the couch and collapses down on his favorite end, pillowing his head on the arm rest. He closes his eyes but he feels farther from sleep than he did before. 

“Hey, you,” Tony’s voice says. “Get lost? You should know this place by now.”

It startles Peter a little bit and he sits up, looking over the back of the couch. Tony is there, the lights from outside falling in on him and tracing his every step. He tilts his head, gives Peter a quizzical look, and keeps walking until he’s right behind the couch.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Peter says, simply.

Tony narrows his eyes, and walks around the couch to sit beside him. He pushes out the lounger and rests his feet on it, eyeing Peter the whole time. “Why do I feel like this is becoming a pattern? Didn’t you say that on Monday when you were here, too?”

Peter doesn’t exactly like owning up to it. He averts his eyes, towards the darkened TV, where all the Switch controllers are strewn about like a bunch of animals live here. 

“You know what I do when I can’t sleep?” Tony asks, bridging the gap for him so he doesn’t have to. “I always tell myself—okay, your alarm just went off, you’ve got five minutes before you have to get up and get ready. And I think about all the things I need to do to get ready for the day and that makes me exhausted and rebellious enough to drift off.”

Peter snorts. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know. But it works. You ever get that? You wake up for school and you just…you’d give anything to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, shifting a little bit.

“You can also try a white noise machine, counting sheep, listening to music—an eye mask, I’ve got these heated eye masks that have saved my goddamn life before, no kidding.” He stops talking, looks at Peter again, like he’s analyzing him. “It’s not nightmares, right? You’re not having nightmares?”

“No,” Peter says, fast. “Well. Not all the time. I can’t sleep when I have them and I can’t sleep when I don’t have them.” He thinks about how this started happening once he got settled again—after the party, which truly marked their return, which marked the end of the ordeal and the beginning of moving on and he doesn’t know how to move on. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t understand how the hell they managed it. Getting out. Staying alive. Living through the end of the world.

“Kid,” Tony says, getting his attention again. “This happens. We’re—we are who we are, so big, life-altering things happen to us and we’ve gotta deal with them, and sometimes it’s hard to…reconcile with how they fit into our lives or how our lives are gonna be the same after. This has happened to me over and over—when I lost my parents, after I got home from Afghanistan, after New York and losing Steve, losing you—every goddamn time, this is it. The big thing—I don’t sleep.”

Peter picks at the hem of his shirt. “How did you, uh—fix it? Like, for good?

“Well me being me, unhealthily, usually…I just sorta ride it out and eventually it stops. But you—a healthy human being—you should try to find something that settles you down. Maybe do some more physical activity during the day—not necessarily Spiderman yet, I know you’re holding back for the moment and I’m glad about it, honestly—”

Peter clears his throat. He isn’t glad about it. He wants, _needs_ to be Spiderman again. That’s something he needs to change immediately, if he’s gonna salvage any bit of his sanity. 

“—but maybe we could do some training together? Or maybe get Tasha in here, show you some moves? I know you’re pretty good on your own—”

“No,” Peter says, looking at him. “No, that’d be great.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks, tapping his foot on the recliner. He doesn’t have to wear the sling anymore, but he still favors his left arm a lot of the time. Peter worries about that, too. “Yeah, we could definitely work that out. And otherwise, I’ve got a whole list of shit that’s supposed to help you sleep from all the times Pepper’s wanted to pound me into oblivion for staying awake for thirty six hours straight.”

“Jesus,” Peter says, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve never gone _that long_. How do you survive that?”

“Eventually I crash, but you don’t wanna crash like me, trust me,” Tony says. He tilts his head to the side and looks up at the ceiling. “Although you’d probably be adorable and everybody would be fawning over you, as per usual—with me it’s usually disgust, people stepping over my passed out body—we’d probably be carrying you to a bed of flowers or some shit—”

Peter snorts. “Shut up.”

“Seriously,” Tony says, looking at him. “It’s like you’ve put a goddamn spell over all the Avengers, Pepper, Quill and the others—everybody loves you, kid, they’d do anything for you.”

Tony likes to harp on how much everybody loves Peter and usually Peter would doubt such a thing, brush it off—but they all show it, all the time. Natasha will take him out driving randomly, Rhodey likes to drop by his apartment with dinner, Sam and Clint always let him win in Mario Kart even when he’s sure they’re gonna kick his ass. Despite everything feeling off kilter, everybody and how protective and nice they are to him is like the brightest thing in his life. 

He looks at Tony. “You too?”

Tony glares at him. “Please.”

Peter grins. 

“Best thing to do though….is talk to somebody,” Tony says. “And I’m always haunting this place, when you’re here you can knock on my door, text me to come out, whatever, and I will. I’ll bore you to death with some of my stories and you know it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Tony glares. “Okay, you’re not supposed to agree with that sentiment, only I can say it.”

Peter beams, laughing.

Tony pushes his recliner back in and gets to his feet, bracing his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Alright, c’mon, junior. Hot chocolate time. Then we’ll try some breathing exercises and you’ll be running for the hills in no time.”

Peter watches him go, and quickly gets up to follow. “You better have marshmallows this time or I’m never coming back here.”

“I have three bags, Pete, stop with the doubt.”

 

2.

Once he does start going back out as Spiderman, that’s different too. He feels like he tries harder, going from corner to corner looking for everything, anything, anyone that’s even close to being in danger. He stops a couple robberies, more than his fair share of muggings, and at least fifteen car jackings. 

He gets more bruised up than usual, breaks more ribs, and tries to keep it on the down low. Bruce patches him up and gives him looks and reluctantly promises not to tell Tony. Peter doesn’t exactly like to keep his injuries secret, and he doesn’t hide them from everyone—he tells Ned, he tells Bruce, he tells Natasha and Scott—but Bucky, May, Steve and Tony all don’t need to know. He’s not dead, he’s fine, and sometimes the helicopter parenting from all four of them makes him feel like he’s seven sometimes instead of seventeen. 

And maybe he is taking bigger risks. Maybe he doesn’t wanna see the correlation between that and being “dead”, maybe he doesn’t wanna acknowledge anything like that even exists. Maybe he likes how it feels, the adrenaline and the rush and the feeling of being truly alive. 

He doesn’t really think too deeply about it, even when he’s sitting in the med lab with a bloody nose and a shredded up arm from being dragged along the street. Bruce looks even more concerned than he normally does.

“What?” Peter asks, and he’s still breathing hard. He can’t really catch his breath. The guy was way too fast. “I got him!” he says, smiling. “The cops were happy. I feel like one day they’re gonna give me a medal. Or a trophy. Or like, some money.”

“Or they’ll all turn against you like they did the Avengers because you wreck a building,” Bruce says. “Or a city. Or a country.”

Peter’s brows furrow and he looks off to the side. “Well, hopefully, like…hopefully not.”

“Why are you keeping this from Tony?” Bruce asks, tending to the scrapes on his arms. “You’re gonna see him later—”

“It should all be healed by then,” Peter says, maybe too fast. Right now is one of those times when he’s glad Tony can’t hear him in his head anymore. Which also makes him feel guilty.

Bruce glares at him. And Bruce usually doesn’t look like that so Peter winces a little bit, and Bruce immediately softens. “It just kinda seems like you’re—risking a little too much? When you go out as Spiderman? Are you doing it on purpose, or—”

“Am I hurting myself on purpose?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows. “No, no, definitely…absolutely not, no.”

Bruce looks at him like he knows better.

“I mean, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with all this,” Peter says, looking down at his arm where Bruce is applying Neosporin and bandages. “I should just take care of it myself, I just wasn’t sure if my nose was broken—”

“It is broken,” Bruce says. “And you aren’t easing my mind acting like you’re gonna start hiding things from me, too.”

“I won’t,” Peter says, wilting a little under the news that his nose is actually broken and they’re gonna have to reset it. “I just…I mean, I know it’s been months but he’s…he was in a coma, his arm is only just getting better, he’s been through a lot—”

“You have too,” Bruce says. “Don’t…diminish what you went through just because a lot of other people went through the same thing, Peter. Okay? It’s a horror story, I can’t even imagine going through what you went through and you’ve gotta...” He sighs. “You just need to take care of yourself, understand what you’re going through.”

Peter is quiet. He knows things are different, but he doesn’t exactly think he’s going through anything. He doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t want any more of that attention, he wants things to go back to normal.

“I’m okay,” he says. “I’m totally fine.”

~

He doesn’t know how long he’s falling before Tony catches him. The panic has him gripped and he knows he’s out of web fluid and he should have checked, should have kept his eye on the levels but he didn’t, it doesn’t matter now, he’s already dead, he’s hurdling to the ground and he’s dead, he’s dead, he can’t call anybody because he’ll be a blot of blood on the concrete soon, and it was all for nothing, all of it—

—but then Tony has him, and Peter is frozen for a second before he clutches onto the Iron Man suit and holds on tight. He doesn’t think, hardly breathes, just closes his eyes and tries to enjoy the silence, the wind bristling in a way that doesn’t mean he’s hurdling towards the ground without any web fluid or a parachute. 

Tony sets down on the top of a neighboring building and puts him down, and Peter doesn’t understand why he’s not yelling. But then the suit bleeds back into the housing unit and Peter gets it when he sees Tony’s face—that fuming, boiling kind of anger that he’s only witnessed a couple times before.

“Peter,” Tony says. 

Peter peels off his mask, staring up at him. He’s sitting there and he feels like a little kid.

“Did you—I’m trying to wrap my head around what I just fucking saw.”

“I didn’t—”

“Did you just—jump off—the New York Times building? For no fucking reason?”

“I had a reason,” Peter stammers, though he’s having a hard time finding it in his head. 

“What was it? Share with the class.”

Peter blinks at him and he’s sweating, having a hard time breathing. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I saw—”

“You didn’t see shit from that far up,” Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Even with the suit. You jumped off that building. On purpose. And then you realized you didn’t have any more fucking fluid or your chute and then you panicked. Correct?”

Peter just stares at him. He’s been doing it for about a week now, but he’s never run out of web fluid before. He usually lets himself fall for a little bit, and then he shoots a web and it’s fine. Normal. He likes how it feels. Likes the weightlessness, how the wind races past—but he used his parachute back with the Empire State situation and he’d forgotten to put in a new one. And the web fluid—he can’t believe he did that. He literally can’t believe he did that. It flashes on his main screens and he still—he still managed to neglect it.

Tony’s face falls. He wipes a hand over his eyes and takes a couple steps towards the edge of the building, and then he walks back just as fast. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“No,” Peter almost yells. “No, of course—”

“Then why in the hell are you jumping off buildings?” Tony yells, throwing his arms out. 

“How did you even know where I was?” Peter asks, getting defensive. “Are you still—”

“Yes, I’m tracking you,” Tony says. “Of course, I’m tracking you, because you’re acting weird, and you’re in and out of the compound keeping secrets and you forget, there’s a goddamn camera in the med bay. Final nail in the coffin was Barnes coming to me asking why you’re being shifty. _He_ used the word _shifty_ in reference to _you_. So yeah, I followed you. And witnessed you taking a swan dive off a fucking building and not trying to shoot a web for a good ten seconds before you realized you didn’t have that option.” Tony stops talking and stares at him hard.

Peter stares back and sighs, resting his forehead on his knees. “It’s not a big deal.”

He hears Tony scoff. “It’s not—it’s not a big deal? You jumping off one of the tallest buildings in New York is not a big deal?”

“I jump off shit all the time.”

“Yeah, to chase bad guys and solve crime but this. This was intentional. You were jumping to jump.” He’s quiet for a second. “Am I wrong?”

Peter’s quiet too. “No,” he says. 

Tony sighs. “Why are you doing this, Peter? What the hell is happening? Why would you be so reckless, after everything that’s happened?”

Peter does not want to cry. It’s literally the last fucking thing he wants to do. But the tears come anyway, because he doesn’t exactly know why he’s doing this, can’t really put a finger on it, and he hates himself for making such a fucking mistake with the web fluid. If he hadn’t done that, he would have been able to catch himself, and he could have brushed this off to Tony, and anybody else who questioned him on it. 

But now the mistake puts the whole thing in perspective. The danger of it. After everything Tony did to get him back. Everything May went through, searching for him in that darkness. And now he’s fucking around like this.

Before he knows it Tony is beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Relax,” Tony says. “Relax, it’s fine. You’re okay.”

“It’s not fine.”

“It’s fine if I say it’s fine.”

“You were just saying it’s the opposite of fine,” Peter snaps, nasally and stupid sounding.

“Listen,” Tony says, tugging him closer. “Listen, listen—we’ve been over the secret thing, you’re gonna give poor Bruce an aneurism making him lie to me and don’t worry, he did hold up under pressure, it was literally only the cameras that gave him away. Something happens in my compound, I’m gonna hear about it, _especially_ if Thor witnesses it, so there’s a tip for you.”

“I didn’t wanna worry you,” Peter mutters, his heart beating fast. 

“But you still wanted to go really hard at criminals and jump off buildings, yeah?” Tony asks. Peter doesn’t answer. “I get that things are—I get that it’s been hard. Adapting, after what happened. I still can’t use my arm properly and that makes me wanna push myself and be reckless because maybe I’ll be capable of something I didn’t know I was capable of—or maybe I’ll fuck myself up beyond recognition and regret the dumb decisions I’ve made.”

Peter leans into him a little bit and feels so, so stupid. “I just wanted to feel like—feel like—I don’t know—”

“Kinda like you’re invincible, huh?” Tony asks. “Because being stuck in that place made you feel benched, trapped, and now you’ve got the world again you wanna try to do more than you did before. Sound right?”

Peter nods. He feels like such an idiot and he wants to fade into nothing, and he mentally smacks himself for that phrasing and imagery and the tears fall even faster. 

“Stop crying, stop crying,” Tony says, through gritted teeth as he squeezes Peter’s shoulder. “You know I hate this, kid—and I know you didn’t tell me because you don’t want to bother me, your sacrificial shit, but you also did it because you know I’m gonna tell you not to do it and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Don’t do it. Do not jump off a building just to jump off a goddamn building. Unless you want me to have a heart attack, then do exactly that.”

Peter laughs a little bit, shaking his head. 

“But for real, Pete. Look at me.”

Peter looks up. 

“You gotta think about May, when you do shit like this. You gotta remember who’s waiting for you. And Bucky? Christ, you wrapped the Winter goddamn Solider around your little finger in that pocket dimension. That guy is constantly worrying about you, just like me—when you’re not telling us what’s going on, we’re messaging each other, and then Steve gets in on it, and you’ve got three grown men acting like old ladies in a sewing circle and you should be ashamed you’ve reduced us to such a thing, kid, I mean, really.”

Peter can’t help but smile, shaking his head. 

“So what are we not gonna do?” Tony asks.

“Jump off buildings for no reason.”

“And you’re gonna keep an eye on your web fluid, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And reset your parachute.”

“Yeah.”

Tony stares at him like he doesn’t believe him. 

“I promise,” Peter says. He feels like getting caught has terrified him into stopping, and also realizing how fucking stupid it all was. 

But he worries he’s gonna find some other, not so good outlet. He doesn’t say that out loud, and he hopes he’ll be able to recognize it when he does. Tony once called him healthy, and Peter hopes he can live up to that in every aspect of the word.

“You think we can do some Iron Man-Spiderman teamups the next couple times you go out?” Tony asks. 

“So you can watch me?” Peter asks.

Tony shrugs. “Uh, yes and no. I need to get back out there too, and it’s always good PR to be seen with Spiderman. Everybody loves Spiderman.”

Peter smiles, wiping his eyes, and Tony rubs his shoulder up and down. 

“Now, c’mon. You’re done for the night. We’ll get your backpack, wherever the hell you left it, and I’ll fly you home. Shit, that’s what we shoulda been doing all along. Way better than jumping off buildings.”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s actually a good idea,” Peter says, as they both get to their feet. 

“I know,” Tony says. “I’m full of ‘em. Including the one where I say to text Bucky and Steve before they both spontaneously combust. You’re lucky I didn’t tell May what I was doing tonight.”

“Thank God,” Peter says, wiping his eyes again.

3.

All the differences aren’t bad. Before the soul stone, his interaction with girls was essentially nonexistent. Liz was one of the bigger disasters in his life, from the way he handled everything to the fact that her dad literally tried to kill him. He didn’t really try after that, though every moment he hung out with MJ made him realize more and more that he liked her. Like really, really liked her. Liked the way she looked at him, liked the way she leaned towards him. Her outspokenness, how she never backed down from anything, how she slowly went from insulting him to defending him to making him laugh when he needed it most. 

After he got back from his apparent death, he immediately asked her out on a date. She seemed a little unsure of him at first, but they went out and it was pretty much the same as all the times they hung out together with Ned. They talked a lot about their experiences in the soul stone, and Peter had a really hard time pretending he didn’t know as much as he did about how they got out. Her stories about Star Lord were enough to make him shoot water out of his nose, and he was almost desperate to tell her he knew him too. He could only say he had some kind of idea about how the Avengers solved the problem, because she knows he’s friends with Tony.

His confidence is booming. He doesn’t really know why, whether it’s because he knows he could have lost his chance or what, but he’s glad for it. They haven’t made anything official yet, but he’s pretty sure the fact that they’ve been kissing means they’re heading for official pretty soon.

He doesn’t really talk about it to May and Tony. Not even a lot to Ned, who just teases him and laughs and asks for way too much information. Strangely enough he tells most of his dating stories to Bucky, who texts him encouragement constantly. Bucky’s texts vary between formal letters and all broken text speak, and Peter loves trying to decipher what the hell he’s saying.

“So this is nice,” MJ says, from across the table. 

“I don’t detect any sarcasm,” Peter says, raising an eyebrow at her. “I thought you’d either love it or mock me for trying to be fancy.”

“Oh I’m still gonna mock you,” she says, but she’s beaming at him. “I didn’t think the Stark internship paid this much.”

“Oh yeah, he just gave me a raise, actually,” Peter says. Tony actually does have him do odd jobs around the compound, shit that doesn’t really need to be done, like rearranging the living room or washing the dishes in the kitchen or remaking the beds. He pays him for all that and other stuff too, to supplement May’s allowance for him. Peter tries not to be embarrassed about it. “You know,” he says. “Because I’m really good at what I do.”

“Oh, are you?” she asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, we’ll see how good you do when you’re trying to order our food and you can’t pronounce anything on the menu,” she says, taking a sip of her water.

“So much faith,” Peter says, pulling his menu towards him. “What are you looking at? What do you think is gonna be so hard for me to say?”

“This one,” she says, pressing her lips together to suppress a smile as she points at something in the middle of the page. 

“Risotto con pere e gorgonzola,” Peter says, carefully, but he busts into laughter when MJ snorts, covering her face. 

“I thought you’d at least get risotto right,” she says, giggling. “Wow, Parker.”

“It was fine,” Peter says, holding his head high. “It was good, even. I’m proud of me.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m gonna pick something even more difficult than that,” she says, pulling both menus away from him. “And you have to order for me because that’s the gentlemanly thing to do—”

“Of course,” Peter says. “But I’m gonna get you something you don’t want—like—like veal—”

“Peter.”

He snorts. “What? I’ve heard it’s…” And he trails off because he sees a very familiar head a few tables down and a row of booths over. No. Two very familiar heads. Holy shit. His brain is exploding. 

“What?” MJ asks, turning around, trying to see what he sees. “What’s wrong? Some rich guy being weird?”

“Actually, yes,” Peter says. “Tony. And my aunt.”

MJ turns back around and raises her eyebrow at him. “Huh?”

“They’re here,” Peter says, quiet, like he thinks Tony might have planted some kind of listening device on him. “They’re spying on me.”

“What? Tony Stark?” MJ asks, her hands splayed on the table. “And your Aunt? They’re here together? They’re that close? I didn’t know that.”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter says. “He’s been over for dinner a couple times.” 

Tonight had been going good. He’d wanted to make things official. And he’d wanted to share something else with her. Something he thinks she might have suspected for a while now, but he thinks she deserves confirmation. He wanted to tell her about Spiderman.

But now Tony and May are here! Spying on him like he’s a goddamn kid! He stares angrily at the backs of their heads and tries not to lose his cool.

“They’re sitting on the same side of the booth,” Peter says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“They might have been there all the other times too,” MJ says, and she huffs out a laugh. “Do they follow you and Ned around? Or is this just a me thing?”

“This is just an annoying thing, is what it is,” Peter says. He watches them put their heads together and May vaguely looks over her shoulder, quickly turning back around when she sees he’s looking in her direction. He feels really stupid, like a little kid, and it’s almost like all the confidence he’s gained is swirling down the toilet, all the new ground he’s covered with MJ suddenly rocky and uncertain. 

He looks at her, the way she’s smiling at him. He can’t blow this. Anything can happen at any time, and he can’t let Tony and May stalking him like weirdos stop him from having his own life. He tries to think, and as he watches her smile grow it comes to him. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning in, close to the candle on their table. 

She pushes the candle aside and leans in too. “Yes?”

“I have an idea,” he says. 

“You wanna mess with them?” MJ asks, her smile turning mischievous. 

“Yeah,” Peter says. “We’ll get our food—finish most of it—and then you follow my lead. Think you can handle that?”

She scoffs. “Show me what you got, Peter.”

~

Peter has had a lot of good pasta in his life, but this here is particularly good. He eats almost half of it, which is a lot for him these days, and MJ finishes up his and her own. Peter refuses to feel bad for anything he’s about to do, and he gets more and more irritated with every look he sees Tony and May steal at him. 

He looks up at MJ, and clears his throat. He raises his voice. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he declares.

She looks confused for a second and then it dawns on her he’s put his plan into action. “Well,” she says, letting her fork clatter down to her plate. “Things have gotten a lot more serious than either of us expected them to.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, trying to think fast. “It’s hard sneaking around, but people need to know—just how serious things have gotten between us. The people that are most important to me, they, uh…they need to know.”

“Yes,” MJ says, dramatically, and Peter looks up to catch Tony and May both blatantly looking now. “I think it’s about time I told you something important—because we’re gonna need help.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, and he’s about two steps away from laughing.

“I’m pregnant,” MJ says, grinning at him.

May shrieks and Tony spits out water, and then they both disappear behind the booth, trying to hide. Peter covers his mouth and MJ is looking expectantly at him—he has to remind himself that they haven’t even gotten past kissing yet—and then he gets back on track. 

“Oh my God,” he stutters, still trying desperately not to laugh, glancing up to see Tony and May’s table rattling, a bowl falling to the ground. “Oh God, wow—”

“I know,” MJ says, her hands on the table. “What are we gonna do?”

Peter feels the need to one-up her, and he knows Tony and May are really tuned in, now. There’s a waiter hovering close to them, and they both reappear, May patting Tony on the back because he’s hacking and coughing loudly. She has horror written all over her face.

Peter snorts. “I’ve been wanting to do this—and now—and now that you’re—you’re pregnant, well—” He gets out of his seat and bends down on one knee in front of MJ, and now the rest of their section is paying attention too, gasping and turning to look at them. His heart is beating wildly like this is actually real and MJ covers her mouth with her hands in feigned shock. “I don’t have a ring yet,” Peter says, his hands on her knee. “But I wanted to ask you—”

“No!” May yells, rushing around the corner, with a still-coughing Tony on her heels. She nearly trips and falls, bracing her hand on some guy’s shoulder as she runs up to the table. “No, no, oh my god!”

“What the hell is—is happening?” Tony yells, as the both of them skid to a halt next to Peter and MJ’s table.

“Peter!” May yells. “What! What?”

“Peter?” MJ asks, looking at him. “What are they doing here?”

“I don’t—what are you guys doing here?” Peter asks, getting to his feet. He’s so close to laughing, he feels like he’s gonna explode. They look so scared.

“Peter, I think they heard everything,” MJ says, grabbing his arm. And before he can respond to her she quickly runs through the restaurant and out the door. He hadn’t told her about his part of the plan to leave the bill for Tony to pay, and he’s glad they’re on the same page. 

“Kid—”

“Peter—”

“We need to talk, we need to _discuss_ —”

“What—what is—what—”

“You didn’t—you couldn’t—you—no—”

“This is impossible, you can’t—”

“Oh my God, Jesus, kid, what have we said about—”

“Being—”

“ _Being responsible!_ ”

They both yell the last one at the same time and Peter narrows his eyes. He steps forward so he’s right close to them and he whispers, a lot quieter than all the insane yelling they were just doing. 

“I saw you. Both of you, crazy people, stalking me! On my date! Instead of asking me how it went like normal parents!” He clears his throat when they both give him a look at the word and he holds his head higher. “It was a trick. To mess with you. Because you’re ridiculous!”

“A trick?” Tony asks, his voice going high. 

“Wait,” May says, closing her eyes. “So she’s not. She’s…”

“All fake,” Peter asks. “I thought it was a pretty good acting job by both of us. Good improv.” 

“Are you serious?” Tony asks. “All of that—you didn’t—Peter, I swear to God—”

“I gotta go,” Peter says, grabbing his jacket. He points at the table and then back at Tony. “You’ve got this, right? I think I earned that?” He quickly heads for the door.

“Earned—what—what in the hell—”

“Peter! Peter, I can’t believe—”

“Kid, I’m gonna strand you on another _planet_ for this—”

Peter pushes the door open and runs around the corner, where he sees MJ waiting for him. She snorts when she sees him, and grabs onto his arm, tugging him onto the sidewalk. They both start rushing away, laughing. 

“Did you pay for the meal?” she asks.

“No, I left him to pay for it,” Peter says.

“Wow, Parker,” she says, grinning. “Slick! I didn’t know, but I was hoping—”

“Yup, he deserves it,” Peter says. He knows he’s gonna have to face both of them, sooner rather than later, but right now he just basks in how MJ is leaning into his space, and holding onto him. 

He thinks about telling her. Thinks about revealing his biggest secret just like he’d been planning, but something holds him back. The way the light hits the puddles in the street, the way his shoe scuffs or the way the moon looks behind the clouds. 

He may feel more confident now, less intimidated of her and her sharp wit. He may finally be able to make the relationship he wants, and harass Tony and May in public when they wholeheartedly deserve it.

But he worries, about telling her. Not about her reaction, but about someone else being in potential danger because of him, because they know who he is. It already stresses him out that Ned knows, that May found out when he didn’t want her to.

So he keeps his mouth shut, and reaches down, taking MJ’s hand.

4.

Having Spiderman’s metabolism, Peter normally eats a lot more than the average teenager. But the eating less started out pretty much immediately—as soon as he got settled in the hospital in Wakanda, he didn’t feel like he could eat anything as long as Tony was in a coma. But things didn’t get better once Tony woke up, and when he was back in Queens he’d forget to eat for hours before May noticed and got on to him. 

He forced himself for a bit, for her sake—he would set alarms and leave himself notes and for a while it worked out, even though half the time he felt like he was stuffing himself when he tried to get through a simple meal. Ned noticed and MJ did too, but Peter brushed it off. 

It isn’t a big deal.

He feels like it gets worse when he starts going back out as Spiderman, because he’s so distracted all the time. And when Iron Man starts tagging along on _every single little Spiderman outing_ Peter definitely forgets dinner on more than one occasion. But he does enjoy watching Tony deal with the rabbit situation in full Iron Man suit, and he makes sure Karen records every bit of it.

Peter doesn’t really get the whole not eating thing, can’t understand why it’s happening or why he’s hardly ever hungry when he should be. It’s just a severe case of disinterest, and he can’t seem to get past it. Nothing really makes sense anymore, and it’s almost getting to the point where things not making sense is the thing that makes sense.

Today has been busy. He was late for the train in the morning, and had to work on a project through lunch. He’s at the compound for dinner, which Tony and Steve are currently attempting to make together. Peter is sitting on the counter behind them, swinging his feet, and not feeling his best. He rubs his forehead and thinks he feels a sore throat coming on, but he doesn’t say anything to anybody. He’s gotta pick up some medicine on the way home. 

“Cap, you don’t gotta—shit—it doesn’t—”

“What?” Steve asks, and Peter can’t see what he’s doing but he looks like he’s holding onto a pan.

“It doesn’t need to be _that_ greased. Don’t drown the pan.” He clicks his tongue, looking Steve up and down. “Don’t you cook for Barnes, ever? How do you manage it?”

“Sometimes,” Steve says. “He’s become obsessed with Paulie Gee’s—”

“Oh, good taste,” Tony says, mixing something in a bowl. 

“Yeah,” Peter laughs. “He texts me about that place all the time. Didn’t you just eat there again last night?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking over his shoulder at him.

“Gonna get fat,” Tony says, raising his eyebrows.

“Like enchiladas are healthy,” Steve says, gesturing to their workspace.

“This meal is for Peter,” Tony says, sounding slightly offended. “For his great solo work with that semi-truck situation—none of us had to jump in, he just handled it on his own, kept it on lock, nobody died, only one car got wrecked—just good work, all around. He deserves enchiladas.”

“Yeah, maybe from Chavela’s,” Steve says. “We’re gonna mess this up, I can already tell.”

“If anything gets messed up, it’s on you,” Tony says, putting a skillet on the stove top.

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. Jesus, his head hurts. He doesn’t know why Tony picked enchiladas for him. He never really gets excited about any food anymore, not those little special mini cakes May brings home or those stuffed peppers Ned makes or the noodles Bucky almost always seems to have in his fridge. 

That’s when he realizes he hasn’t eaten all day. And he hasn’t really felt the need to. No one’s questioned him on it lately, and he’s pretty sure the last substantial meal he had was waffles with May yesterday morning. He only picked at his salad at lunch, and took about two bites of his sandwich at dinner before tossing it. And nothing today. Absolutely nothing.

It makes him panic a little bit, like Tony has caught him doing something wrong, and he rubs his temples and tries not to think about it. 

“Who else is coming tonight?” Peter asks. “Who, uh—who is here already?”

“Natasha is upstairs right now, she’ll be here, uh…” Tony taps a big spoon on the edge of the stove. “Pep is gonna try to make it, but she’s a hotshot CEO and had like fifteen meetings today, so we’ll see.”

“Bucky’s on his way,” Steve says. 

“Good,” Peter says, sucking in a breath. 

“Is he actually driving?” Tony asks, looking at Steve. “Both of you are on the road now? Guess we’re closer to another apocalypse.”

“Don’t act like you’re not a terrible driver,” Steve says.

“I am a good driver,” Tony says. “In fact, I am an _excellent_ driver—”

“I think it’s about time to dip the tortillas,” Steve says. 

Tony squares up in front of him, crossing his arms. “I decide when it’s tortilla dipping time.” They stare at each other for a few long seconds, and Peter snorts. “Okay, it’s time,” Tony says, and Steve shakes his head.

Peter sways a little bit and digs his fingers into his eyes. His heart is beating way too fast and he wishes they would finish this meal already so he could eat it because he knows he’s supposed to. “Are you guys, uh—still doing that charity thing on Friday?” he asks, trying to distract himself, and them.

“What do you mean, you guys?” Tony asks. “Spiderman taking the day off?”

“No, no,” Peter says. “I was just making sure you were—going, so I could go.”

“Of course we are,” Tony says. “Got the new suits done and everything.”

“Should be nice,” Steve says. “Lots of kids.”

Peter feels really hot, and he kinda knows what’s happening, and he really wants to stop it. He’s embarrassed himself enough for a lifetime in front of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers just being who he is, getting stuck in some goddamn other dimension unable to help with saving the world, and the last thing he wants to do is pass out in front of them. His vision is getting a little blurry and he needs to find a granola bar or something even though the thought makes him sick, and he jumps down off the counter. He barely gets his footing as he heads towards his hallway, and it’s like he has blinders on, everything ten times worse now that he’s up and moving.

“Hey, Peter!”

“Kid, you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Peter calls, reaching for the wall. “I’m just…I’m…” And it’s like complete system shutdown, and he collapses in a heavy heap and too much darkness. 

~

“Peter. Peter, open your eyes. Open your eyes.”

Peter feels like he weighs a million pounds. Someone is touching his face. 

“Kid, look at me. C’mon, you’re scaring me. Wake up.”

“Should I call Bruce?”

“Gimme a second. Come on, Peter, listen to my voice. Wake up, you’re okay. Come on.”

Tony’s voice. Peter is definitely on the ground. He still feels like he’s floating, sinking, and it feels like something is eating him from the inside. His stomach hurts, his head is pounding, and the panic is rising up his throat. 

“Peter, I will drag you to the goddamn hospital if you don’t open your eyes right now.” Tony shakes him a little bit, thumb brushing back and forth over his cheek. “C’mon, kid, look at me.”

Peter is afraid. He doesn’t know of what. Of himself, what he’s doing, what Tony is gonna think of him. He’s already caught him leaping off buildings, being unable to sleep, and now he’s not fucking eating to the point where he passes out? He’s gonna goddamn disown him, he’s gonna lock him up. Peter winces, his eyes burning, and his heart is hammering. He feels like he’s gonna throw up. 

“There you go, you got it. C’mon, we’re right here, open your eyes.”

He can feel the panic spiraling out of control. He reaches up and covers his face with his hands. 

“Pete, c’mon, don’t worry,” Tony says, squeezing his shoulder.

“You’re alright, Peter,” Steve says. “It’s just us here, it’s fine.”

And that’s it. He’s close to these guys, sure, really close, but they’re still Them. They are who they are and he’s acting like an idiot fucking passing out in front of them and behaving like a goddamn child. 

“Here, sit up,” Tony says, bracing his hands on both of Peter’s shoulders. “C’mon.”

“Help me to—the bathroom—I gotta—I gotta throw up,” Peter says. He isn’t sure if he’s lying or not but he knows he has to get out of here, he can’t let them see him like this, not for any fucking extended period of time. The embarrassment is close to killing him.

“Okay, okay,” Tony says, wrapping an arm around his waist and hauling him to his feet. Peter lets his hands slide away from his face but he doesn’t open his eyes, and he feels Steve move to his other side to help him move along.

“Hey!” Bucky’s voice says, and Peter’s face floods with color as they rush him down the hallway. 

“One second, Buck—” Steve says.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong with Peter?”

“Here, here,” Tony says. “Right in front of you, you need help in there—”

“No,” Peter says. He opens his eyes and quickly pulls away from them, pushing his way inside the bathroom and shutting the door. He drops to the ground, sliding down the side of the counter and onto the carpet. He shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries to work his way through the panic. 

He’s a mess. He’s a fucking mess. He doesn’t want to eat but he knows he needs to. But he doesn’t want them to see him like this. 

“Peter, talk to me,” Tony’s voice says, as he knocks on the door. “Are you sick? Should I call May?”

“No,” Peter says. “No, no, don’t—don’t call her.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky’s voice says, and his knocking is louder and more forceful. “Are you okay?”

“He passed out,” Steve’s voice says.

“I’m fine!” Peter says, and he suppresses a sob. He rubs his chest, his stomach, and he doesn’t know how to fix himself. He knows something is broken inside him, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. 

“Peter, I’m worried,” Tony says. “You know I don’t like being worried.”

“Don’t be,” Peter says, trying to even out his breathing. 

He hears a little bit of commotion outside the door, and if they’re arguing over him he’s gonna have another panic attack. 

Then he hears a different voice. 

“Hey, buddy. It’s Sam.”

Peter narrows his eyes. He watches the door rattle a little bit and he realizes that he didn’t lock it, which was stupid as hell. 

“Can I come in there? Just me?”

Peter can hear Tony whispering something, Bucky cutting in, and then Steve cutting them both off. Peter thinks about it. He and Sam are close but not as close as he is with the other three, and the thought of Sam talking to him right now doesn’t send him off the edge. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice wavering.

The door quickly opens, and he can hear Tony and Bucky both talking at the same time before Sam shuts it again. He takes in the scene, and then he locks the door. He walks over and sits across from Peter, leaning against the tub. 

“So what’s going on, huh? This isn’t exactly what I expected when Barnes told me to come with him over here. Figured I’d get in some good ribbing on Tony and Steve playing chefs, but not news the spider kid passed out.”

Peter shakes his head. “Not what I was expecting, either.”

Sam looks at him for what feels like forever. “You not eating?” he asks.

Peter meets his eyes.

Sam shrugs. “You’re all pale and clammy. You look like you lost weight since I last saw you. Maybe I talk to your Aunt a little bit.”

Peter blows out a breath. He doesn’t like to think about the potential of May dating Sam, even though it’s been looming on the horizon since he picked her up to bring her to Wakanda. Peter has definitely heard her flirty voice when she talks to Sam on the phone.

“And maybe something similar happened to me, a while back,” Sam says. “Maybe it’s happening again after all the shit we went through.”

“Really?” Peter asks, before he can even think about it.

“Yeah, kid,” Sam says, wrapping his hands around his knees. “Sometimes this kinda shit happens after a traumatic event. And this is one of the worst ones, I know, because you gotta eat to keep living, and you feel really stupid when you miss meals, get all weak because of it.”

“It just feels like…a disinterest,” Peter says, quiet.

“Yup,” Sam says. “It becomes something you gotta remind yourself to do, and you can’t get excited about it anymore. Even for stuff you used to like.”

Peter stares at him.

“Don’t think of yourself as some kinda freak because of this,” Sam says, shaking his head. “As shitty as it is, it’s not as abnormal as you’d think. Happens to the best of us, and it isn’t a forever kinda thing.”

“What do you do?” Peter asks. “To…get back on track again?”

“Reward system’s good for me,” Sam says, shrugging. “Go a full week with three square meals a day, buy yourself something nice. Go a full day, watch a show you’ve been wanting to watch. Smoothies are good to, it’s a lot easier to get yourself to drink something than eat something, and you’d still be getting the right nutrients and calories.”

Peter sniffles, wiping his eyes. He’s getting real tired of needing these talks.

“You’re stubborn as all hell,” Sam says. “You gotta let people help you, Peter. If you let people help you, things get done. And those guys out there—you know they wanna help you.”

“That’s half the reason why I’m so embarrassed,” Peter mutters. “I know I should talk about these things, I just—I don’t know—”

“It’s hard, I get it,” Sam says. “But the amount of embarrassing shit Tony Stark has done in his life—nothing you do will ever live up to it, kid. It’s not gonna faze him.”

Peter nods, chewing on his lower lip.

“And if it helps you—and I think it will, someone like you—think that you’re eating these meals for these people that you love, that love you. You’re doing it for them. That’ll help you along until it becomes something natural again.”

“Okay,” Peter says.

“So wipe your snot,” Sam says. “We gotta get some food in you. But not the goddamn enchanted enchilada recipe those two were working on, something healthier and better to build you up.” He gets to his feet, and holds out his hand for Peter to take.

Peter sucks in a breath and lets Sam help him up.

~

Sam and Steve head out to get different ingredients for a better meal, and Peter is left to explain to Tony and Bucky exactly what happened, and what’s been happening. Their silence worries him a little bit, and then both of them proceed to share all the times in their lives that they’ve become uninterested in eating. Bucky once went three full days before he realized he hadn’t eaten more than a handful of sunflower seeds. Tony once had to be hospitalized because of it. Peter doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse, and everyone sorta stares at him during dinner, making sure he eats his broth and vegetables. Natasha doesn’t question any of their behavior, but Peter has a feeling she can tell what’s going on with him. Physically, he feels a lot better now that he’s eaten something substantial, but the embarrassment still burns in his cheeks. 

He goes to the kitchen during dessert to get a drink and texts Ned.

 _I totally looked like an idiot today passing out in front of Tony and Captain Goddamn America because I forgot to eat for the past fifteen hours._ He sends it and sighs, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He takes out a glass, gets some water. He still feels a little light on his feet and he leans against the fridge, closing his eyes.

“Hey Spiderman,” Tony’s voice says. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, opening his eyes again and looking at him. He puts his glass down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

Tony leans on the bar across from him and stares at him.

“I’m fine,” Peter says. “I swear. I’m sorry, I, uh—keep springing all this dramatic shit on you, I just don’t want anything to be a big deal—”

“It’s not dramatic,” Tony says, shaking his head. “Well. Maybe sorta, a little, but it’s not your fault. I’m just gonna try to get used to the idea that you’re gonna hide this shit from me and I’m not gonna find out until you’re collapsing in front of me.”

Peter shakes his head. “I just—I don’t—I don’t want—”

“I get that you’re embarrassed, that all of it is hard to deal with…I just hate that you’re going through the ringer, kid. And if you can’t talk to me, Sam’s a good one to talk to, that is his job, after all, to talk to people that have been through things like you have—”

“I wanna be able to talk to you,” Peter mutters, looking down at their feet. “I just….don’t wanna be…such a mess, in front of you. Or May. Or Bucky. Or Steve.” Out of everybody in his inner circle, Ned is the only one who he can really deal with seeing him at his worst. 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve said this to you before,” Tony says. “But I’m the biggest goddamn mess you’re ever gonna meet. And your Aunt—some of the things she’s told me—”

“Don’t wanna know,” Peter says, shaking his head. 

“And Steve— _Bucky_? Their photos are next to the definition of mess in the dictionary, Peter. You’re in good company.” He clears his throat, tapping his hand on the counter. “You care if I maybe—message you food ideas? Or like, bring you shit? In Spiderman Tupperware? You know that’s a thing.”

A wash of warmth runs through Peter’s chest and he nods. His throat is tight and he really can’t believe it sometimes, how much they care about him, how much _Tony_ cares. He’ll never get used to it. Someone needs to hammer it into his brain. It doesn’t seem like something that’s gonna change any time soon.

He steps forward and nearly tackles Tony in a hug. Tony laughs, patting him on the back.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, into his shoulder. “For real, for all of it.”

“I didn’t do anything, kid,” Tony says. “But I _am_ gonna make sure you get a big piece of that pie.”

Peter smiles. For once, he thinks he might be looking forward to it.

5.

Ever since everything happened, Peter has been hanging out with Bucky a lot. A lot a lot. Three hundred times the non-existent amount that occurred before Thanos made him disappear, and a hundred times the amount he used to dream about when he was little.

He’s a lot more chill than Peter ever would have expected, and Peter figures that has something to do with leveling out after their experience. It’s weird, doing things together that don’t entail darkness and life-saving and searching through crates that are portals at the same time, but he really looks forward to the times they spend together, whether they’re sitting around in Bucky and Steve’s new Brooklyn apartment or walking around town or catching up on movies Bucky missed at that theater that shows old flicks. For a while Peter was worried the government was still after Bucky, that soldiers would swoop in and take him away, but apparently Tony had taken care of everything on that front.

Peter is currently standing behind Bucky, watching him play The Moby Dick game on the laptop Tony bought for the Rogers-Barnes household.

“You could waste…hours doing this,” Bucky says, making the whale dive lower again.

“You are,” Peter says, leaning on the back of his chair, laughing. “I have.”

“How do you ever get your homework done?” Bucky asks.

“Sometimes I have to block the website,” Peter says. “Oh, go for that ship—you’ll get it, you’re big enough.”

“The big ones injure me every time,” Bucky says, sending his whale up to start attacking the pirate ship that’s drifted onto the screen.

“That’s why you dive down again and get the power up’s,” Peter says, shifting his weight. 

“How big can you get?” Bucky asks. He grits his teeth as he attacks the ship, narrowing his eyes every time the pirates injure his whale.

“One time I took up like half the screen, but then aliens killed me.”

“Aliens?” Bucky nearly yells, turning around to look at him accusingly.

“Keep your eyes on the screen!” Peter says, knocking him on the shoulder. “You’re gonna drown!”

Bucky twists back around and sighs, making the whale bob back up for air. “Okay, I’m gonna write down my time when I get killed and then when you play you write yours down and every time I’m gonna try to beat you.”

Peter snorts, hanging his head. Bucky is a lot more competitive than he ever would have expected. They play three rounds, and Bucky can never beat his score. He huffs and closes the window out, heading over to the couch.

“I just need more practice,” Bucky says, flopping down in the recliner chair. 

“Sure, sure,” Peter says, sitting across from him and facing the TV. 

“Are you mocking me, Parker?” Bucky asks, pointing over at him. 

“Of course not,” Peter says, trying not to laugh. 

“Okay, you pick the movie, loser,” Bucky says, gesturing to the remote. 

~

They’re about halfway into _Back to the Future_ when Peter gets a text from Tony. 

**Tony:** _hey where are you_

Peter checks to make sure Bucky is paying attention and then he starts typing back, lowering the brightness on his screen. 

_At Buck’s apartment, we’re watching Back to the Future. He’s never seen it! I guess I shouldn’t be surprised._

“Has anyone tried to actually make this car?” Bucky asks. “With the amount of technology in this day and age I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I bet people have tried,” Peter says, dropping his phone from hand to hand. “But no one’s really succeeded. Well. Not that I know of.”

 **Tony:** _oh_  
**Tony:** _ok bud have fun_

Peter stares at the messages. Usually Tony types a little bit more, because even when he types he has a lot to say. Peter chews on his lower lip and formulates a response.

_If he likes it I’m gonna try for the second one too, I’ll tell you how it goes_

“This would actually really come in handy,” Bucky says. “Like, a lot of situations in our lives would have done well with a time travelling car.”

 **Tony:** _yup make sure he pays attention, those are classics_

Peter smiles to himself.

~

An hour or so later they’re watching the second movie and Steve walks in the door holding a few brown paper bags. As soon as he sets eyes on Peter his face falls.

“What are you doing here, kid?” Steve asks. 

“What’s that face?” Bucky jumps in. “We’re watching _Back to the Future._ The second one, we just started it.”

“Tony finished that gear for you today, Pete,” Steve says, putting his bags down on the dining room table. He puts his hands on his hips and looks really stern. “You guys had that whole training thing planned—he made snacks, he was all excited—”

Peter’s heart sinks. Sweat immediately breaks out on his forehead and he looks over at Bucky, and sees shock in his eyes. 

“Oh no,” Peter says, clawing at his throat. “Oh no, oh no.”

“You blew him off,” Bucky says. He grabs the remote and pauses the movie.

“Not on purpose!” Peter says. He always gets caught up when he hangs out with Bucky, because it’s new and fun and really chill. It sorta makes him feel centered, because it’s the opposite of being in the soul stone, and it reminds him that they made it. They aren’t together there anymore, but they’re together in the real world. A definite difference between what his life was before he disappeared and what his life is now. 

But God _God_ he feels like shit! He didn’t mean to do this to Tony! He loves Tony! And he totally abandoned him! They’ve been training on and off since Tony found out he was having a hard time sleeping and it has been helping tire him out on the worst days, and he literally cannot _believe_ he forgot about this! He gets his goddamn days mixed up sometimes but he hates himself for forgetting about this, Tony’s been making him new training gear so they can try new drills, and he was gonna stay over and work on suit upgrades with him in the morning and _oh my god_ he cannot believe he missed it. 

His phone buzzes.

 **May:** _hey, you’ll be home later? Tony said your plans changed._

Peter groans sadly, eyes darting back and forth between Bucky and Steve.

“You better call him, man,” Bucky says, looking down at Peter’s phone. 

“It’s too late to go there now,” Steve says, looking at Bucky. “It’ll take him an hour or more to get upstate.”

“I need to go,” Peter says, getting to his feet. He takes one step towards Steve but then backs up, another towards Bucky and then he backs up again. He’s panicking he doesn’t know what to do—he feels like such a shithead. Steve said Tony made snacks! Now all Peter can think of is him sitting alone sadly eating them by himself.

He texts May. _No I accidentally forgot I was supposed to be hanging out with Tony but I’m gonna go over there right now and stay the night as planned I’m sorry I’ll call you when I get there_

“Relax, I’ll take you,” Bucky says.

“No, no,” Peter says, clutching his phone. “You’ve got dinner, Steve’s back, the movie—”

“It’s fine, Pete, he can take you,” Steve says. “Neither one of us are too good in the kitchen, but he just distracts me.”

“And I’ll save the movie for when you’re here again,” Bucky says. “Or me you and Tony can watch it together if he ever forgives you—oh my God, I’m kidding, stop with the face,” Bucky says, tugging on his arm.

Peter’s phone buzzes again, and when he looks down he has another panic attack because it’s _Natasha._

 **Natasha:** _weren’t you supposed to be over here? Old man’s moping and Pepper won’t be back til late, it’s stressing me out to be around him_

“Okay, let’s go,” Peter says, panicking even harder. “I’m sorry guys.”

“Don’t be,” Steve says, as they pass by him. “You’ve just got too many friends.”

~

The phone rings three times before Tony answers it.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. “I’m on my way now.”

“Pete, it’s fine, you don’t have to come.”

“No, no, I’m already on my way.” He looks over when Bucky beeps angrily at the car in front of them, throwing his hands up. “It was a complete accident, I just got my days mixed up—”

“It’s late, unless you’re suited up I don’t want you riding the trains on the way here—”

“Bucky’s driving me, and either way—”

“Kid, that’s worse—”

“Just, I’ll be there, okay?” Peter says. “Don’t let this be one of your early nights.”

“Yeah, you know I rarely have those.”

“See you in a bit.”

“Alrighty. Tell him to _drive safe._ ”

Peter hangs up a moment later and Bucky clicks his tongue, changing lanes. 

“Uh, pretty sure you might have done this to him before,” Bucky says. “Steve mentioned something, but Tony’s never gonna like, make you feel bad about it, so he didn’t say anything.”

“Ugh, please,” Peter says, covering his face and sinking down into his seat. “No way, don’t tell me that.”

“You and me get too caught up, I guess,” Bucky says, shrugging. “I start acting like a teenager, you are a teenager—”

Peter snorts, shaking his head. 

~

Peter can barely find Tony when he gets to the compound, and he’s worried he went straight to bed, but finally he heads down to the workshop and catches him just as he’s walking out. 

Tony does a good job of hiding disappointment on his face, but Peter has gotten so good at reading him that he can see everything he’s trying to keep down. Peter essentially throws himself against the wall and closes his eyes. “I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry—”

“Pete, it’s fine,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulder. “You didn’t even need to come, I know you were hanging out with your friend, I don’t wanna cramp your style—”

“No, no, you don’t,” Peter says, turning around and looking at him. “I’ve just been hanging out with Bucky more lately and I’m so bad at juggling things and people and schedules and it totally has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you or cramping styles or anything like that.”

Tony nods. “Alright, if you say so.”

Peter groans. He doesn’t like how that sounds. 

“Did you eat over there?” Tony asks. “Steve’s shit at cooking, so I guess it doesn’t really matter, you probably need something better—”

“I didn’t eat,” Peter says. “Steve mentioned you had snacks?”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Steve mentioned—what else did Steve mention? Is he the reason why you raced over here? Did he make you feel guilty? Because it’s fine, I told you, I’m good—”

“No, he didn’t make me feel—listen, I’m hungry,” Peter lies. “Super hungry, I need to eat something.”

“Okay, c’mon,” Tony says, motioning for him to follow him. They go to the kitchen, he heats up some kind of meatloaf thing, and as soon as he puts it on a plate he looks at his watch. 

“Kid, I’m beat,” he says. “I’m gonna go hit the sack, you gonna be okay?”

Peter sighs. He doesn’t think he’s disappointed Tony this much since the whole ferry incident and they’ve come so far since then. He sighs, picking at the edge of the meatloaf with his fork. “We still gonna work on suits tomorrow?” he asks, quietly. 

“Of course,” Tony says. “Let me know when you wake up.”

“Okay, goodnight,” Peter says, thoroughly upset and annoyed at himself. 

“Night kid,” Tony says, and turns, walking away. 

Peter eats by himself, and a couple minutes later his phone buzzes. 

**Bucky:** _did I get you in trouble with ur dad_

Peter smiles a little bit, shaking his head. _No, dumbo. But I think I’ve made him feel uncool so I gotta think of something good._

He finishes his food, washes the plate and heads up to his room, calling May before he tries to go to sleep.

“So you forgot about Tony today, huh?”

Peter closes his eyes. “Yup. I forgot about Iron Man.”

“You wounded his pride, I think.”

“Ugh, no.”

“You’ve definitely done that to me on numerous occasions, I’ll have to tell him that,” she says. 

“I just like…I don’t know, I like hanging out with Bucky because he and I went through something together that was different, something other people can’t really get, and when we hang out it feels like…a weird form of therapy? And I guess I get caught up? I don’t know.”

“I get it, baby,” May says. “I know you’re going through something, but you can’t neglect your other responsibilities and be insensitive to people who are also going through something.”

Peter rubs his eyes. Tony is definitely going through something, especially after what happened, and he knows they help each other heal. Tony always puts everybody before himself. “I didn’t do it on purpose, though,” Peter says, feeling so, so bad.

“I know, you never do, you don’t have a mean bone in your body,” May says. “But you gotta try to keep your thoughts in order, you can’t go forgetting plans with people, especially people like him who have done so much for you. And he’d never admit he got his feelings hurt because he’s Tony Stark, he’s stubborn, and he doesn’t want you to feel bad.”

Peter thinks Tony is the coolest person on the planet and he hates that Tony might not know that right now. “I’ll make it up tomorrow,” he says. “I’m starting to have an idea.”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” May says. “Just try and get some sleep.”

~

Peter sits in the corner of the darkened gym and reads his latest message from Pepper. 

**Pepper:** _Okay he just woke up, I’m about to tell him, hopefully he doesn’t fall down the stairs trying to get down there :) do you need anything else from me??? I hope his moping didn’t upset you too much honey, he’s fine, I’ve forgotten about him plenty of times and he’s still alive_

Peter snorts. _No thank you so much!! It’s perfect and I hope he likes it. He gets that horrible sad disappointed face I don’t know how you deal with it!!_

The red laser lights flash on and off where he and Pepper arranged them, and Tony hardly ever uses this gym anyway so Peter figures he’ll probably let the set-up stay if he likes it. The maze and hiding places are pretty complicated and over the top, and he’s proud of putting it together so quickly. He couldn’t have done it without Pepper.

 **Pepper:** _oh I know, it’s depressing. He’s coming now! Rampaging! Good luck! He’ll be fine, he’ll love it :)_

His phone buzzes again.

 **Tony:** _kid where are you? is Pepper serious?_

Peter isn’t sure exactly what she told him but he knows it’s something about him hurting himself and acting like it’s no big deal, which definitely sounds like him and is the perfect ruse to get Tony down here. He drums his fingers on the laser web gun he set aside for himself, and he’s excited.

A few minutes later he can hear Tony’s voice calling him.

“Peter? Kid? You’re always telling me to stop treating you like you’re seven instead of seventeen, but I don’t know why the hell you’re looming around in the downstairs gym and hurting yourself—if you twisted your goddamn ankle, you’re heading up to Bruce, I don’t care what kind of bitching I hear—”

The last part is louder because Tony is inside the room now, and Peter can hear him stop walking, feeling for the light switch on the wall. 

“Why—are there lasers in here—”

Peter jumps up, shoots a laser web at him, and hits Tony’s right arm. He clicks a button on the remote to make the lights on the walls come on.

“What’s happening—are you gonna kill me?” Tony asks. “Did you find out you’re in my will now?”

Peter snorts. “I set this up for us!” he says. “Laser tag!”

“Laser tag?”

“Laser tag!” Peter repeats again. “Pepper helped me—I’ve got six obstacles, two team refill checkpoints, one shooting nest—we made ten guns and ten vests, but I figured me and you could test it out before inviting everybody else.” He can barely see Tony’s expression, just the red lights flashing on and off all around him. “I’m a flake—I love hanging out with Bucky, but you’re always gonna be the coolest. I just—wanted to remind you of that.”

Tony laughs a little bit, looking down and trying to brush the laser webs off his arm. “Pepper helped you with this?” he asks.

“Yup,” Peter says. “Let me climb up the walls, helped me center the lights, put up the obstacles—”

“Of course,” Tony says, and Peter can see he’s smiling now. “So this is where she was all morning.”

“Texted her last night, she woke up at four with me. And I’ve had laser webs on the docket for a while so it didn’t take long to whip ‘em up.”

Tony nods, looking around, taking it all in. Then he kicks the door closed. “Throw me my gun, kid. I know you’ve got the home team advantage since you built this thing, but I’m gonna show you how it’s done. Then we gotta make some plans because if Natasha is included in this ten person game she’ll win in ten seconds flat.”

Peter grins, grabbing the red gun he’d put aside for Tony and tossing it to him. “Okay, after I win against you we’ll discuss strategy.”

Tony laughs loudly. “After you win? Okay, underoos, I’m not dead yet.”

Peter grins, and takes off running. 

6.

One thing is always the same, no matter what else changes. No matter the meals he misses or the amount of hours he sleeps, how reckless he gets, how many dates with MJ he goes on or how much he hangs out with Bucky. 

He will always think Iron Man is the coolest superhero ever. 

The whole team is dealing with some kind of robot tech—a bunch of bad guys replicated the same evil robot to distract them while they robbed some of the biggest banks in Manhattan. Peter fights them, knocking them apart with a few well-placed punches, and tries to keep the public out of the fray. 

Everyone is talking on the coms all at once, and it definitely reminds him of having Tony’s voice in his head, except a lot more hectic. He hasn’t really gotten used to using the coms in a big battle, and he keeps getting distracted. He tries to keep up and stay in the fight at the same time.

He kicks a robot backwards, watches it explode against a light pole. “Bam!” he yells. “Take that! God, these things are annoying.”

“ _Tell me about it,_ ” Natasha’s voice says in his ear.

“ _I exploded one from the inside!_ ” Scott declares, and Peter laughs. He races down the street to where another group of them are clustered and he starts fighting them, looking for weak spots. 

“ _Heading in through the back door at the bank on 115th,_ ” Steve’s voice says. 

“ _I’m right behind you,_ ” Sam says. 

“Guys, get inside!” Peter yells, at a bunch of people standing on the edge of the road, staring at him. “Go, this is—it’s not safe out here, don’t you see the robots?”

“ _People like to watch,_ ” Clint’s voice says. 

“Watch from inside!” Peter yells, pointing at the sandwich shop behind them. “That place—they have good turkey and swiss! Quick!” He huffs as the people slowly move away and then he feels something hit him hard on the back of the head. He stumbles forward, catches himself before he falls, and turns to knock out a robot that’s hovering behind him. Clint rushes up and joins his fight, and they’ve got about six or seven to contend with.

“How many are there?” Peter asks. “Like, total?”

“ _I think about fifty or sixty—_ ” Rhodey’s voice says, and just as Peter is thinking he hasn’t heard from Tony in a while, his voice cuts in. 

“ _There are forty three—forty two left, and I’m just about sick of it,_ ” he says. 

“ _What d’you have planned, Stark?_ ” Bucky asks. 

“ _The Hulk just smashed seven of them at once!_ ” Thor says, laughing happily. 

“ _Alright, thirty five to go,_ ” Tony says. “ _I think I can handle that._ ”

“Uh—how are you gonna do that?” Peter asks, backhanding one and sending it flying into a tree. Three more surround him and they’re so annoying, he really wants to get them the hell out of here. Another one knocks him in the stomach and he groans, hitting it back and tearing it’s legs from its torso.

“ _You okay, kid?_ ” Tony asks.

“Yeah,” Peter says, throwing another punch, a car swerving around him as he jumps out of the street. He wishes the cops would cut off the roads already. “You were saying?”

“ _The Chase is secured,_ ” Steve says. 

“ _Wells Fargo, too,_ ” Thor says. “ _They just reported._ ”

“One more,” Peter says. “Tony?”

“ _Steve, I’m on my way, we’re clear over here,_ ” Bucky says.

Peter hears something in the air that sounds like a rocket. He looks up and sees Iron Man flying through the sky, swooping down and grabbing something, and he keeps repeating that motion. Peter squints—he looks like he’s got stuff attached to him but he’s too far for Peter to really tell what it is—and he catches a punch across the face from the last robot left standing on this side of Central Park. Clint has one on the ground, and he quickly dispatches it.

“ _Stop looking at me, kid, you’re gonna hurt yourself._ ” 

“I’m fine!” Peter says, gritting his teeth. The robot is actually running away from him now, like it can sense his anger, and he starts chasing after it, shooting webs, the extra spider legs coming out and making him move faster. 

When he’s a couple steps away from the robot Tony swoops down and grabs it, and Peter stumbles back. He watches him fly away and sees that he’s holding at least twelve struggling robots—and gathering more.

“ _What the hell are you doing, Tony?_ ” Natasha asks. “ _Adopting them?_ ”

“ _He always liked robots,_ ” Rhodey says. 

“ _Ha-ha,_ ” Tony deadpans. “ _I’m finishing the job. Ps the Bank of America is secure, I sent four suits there and they shut it down. You’re welcome._ ”

Peter starts following him, shooting a web and cascading through the air. He tries to stay close behind him, and he watches as Tony continues to gather the robots from all around town. Peter can’t tell how the hell he’s holding them all, and he sorta looks like a round alien ship zooming and bobbing through the air. 

Peter is grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, and he sees everyone on the street following Tony’s movements. 

“ _That the last one, Thor?_ ” Tony asks, as Peter sees Iron Man and the big ball of robots raising higher into the sky.

“ _Yes—Hulk and I are starting cleanup—Clint is assisting the injured civilians, but I believe the number is low. No casualties._ ”

“ _Alright, lemme just do a little something something here,_ ” Tony says. Peter tracks his trajectory, watches him get higher and higher and a little further to the right. 

Then, the ball of robots explodes. Peter gasps, nearly misses his next web, and he sees a very contained line of robot parts falling down into a junkyard that Tony was hovering over.

“Tony, where are you?” Peter asks, his eyes searching the sky. He keeps webbing, his heart hammering. He’s about to start panicking. “Tony, Tony?”

“ _I’m alright, Pete,_ ” Tony says, and then Peter sees him, a small dot in the sky far back from where the explosion happened. “ _I just fused them together, flew back, took ‘em all out, and made sure they landed in that junk shop there. Cops are on their way over, wanna meet me?_ ”

Peter laughs, letting out a breath. He looks down, sees people pointing and clapping, hooting and hollering. 

“You’re so cool,” Peter says, before he means to. And he groans at himself, and braces for the teasing he knows is coming.

“ _Aw, c’mon, Peter, don’t encourage him—_ ”

“ _He isn’t that great, buddy—_ ”

“ _Spiderman, you know War Machine is cooler—_ ”

“ _Alright, shut up, Spiderman knows what he’s talking about,_ ” Tony says, and Peter snorts, shaking his head. He watches him do a little spin flair in the sky and head down to the junkyard. “ _You coming, kid?_ ”

Peter grins to himself. He feels good. He’s happy, and for once, anxious for the giant team meal he knows is coming later once everything is settled. He doubts he’ll ever stop being excited that this is his life now—he’s an Avenger, he gets to hang out with and fight alongside his idols—and Iron Man, the coolest superhero to ever exist. 

He shoots another web and soars through the air, listening to the cheers and chants on the ground below. “I’m on my way!”

**Author's Note:**

> I missed this universe too much! I will probably do more here mostly focused on Peter and Tony, but if you have something you'd like to see from the original story, let me know and I'll see what I can do! Hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
